


The Last Night of the Living

by Thespia



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thespia/pseuds/Thespia
Summary: At dawn, the united forces of Westeros will meet the army of the dead. Jaime Lannister has a small favor to ask of Brienne of Tarth before the world ends.





	The Last Night of the Living

The last night at Winterfell was a somber one. Once the dragonglass weapons had been accounted for and the Dragon Queen had said her last words, everyone went quietly to their rooms to try to catch a few hours of sleep before the army left at dawn to face the Night King. Bran's vision said they must leave tomorrow to meet them head-on. 

Brienne had finally taken off her armor, had sharpened Oathkeeper, and was about to take off her boots and retire (Podrick had first watch of Lady Sansa's chamber) when she heard a loud, urgent pounding on her door. Grateful the cold night air made her sleep in a soldier's tunic and pants, she got up to answer it. 

When Brienne opened the door expecting to find a servant with some last minute question about provisions or even Podrick wanting to say something sentimental. It was Jaime.

“Ser Jaime-” 

Brienne meant to ask if he needed something or what was wrong, but something about the Lannister standing at her chamber door caught her off guard. 

He looked . . . afraid. It was a kind of fear she'd only glimpsed in his eyes a few times. When they said goodbye at Kings Landing. When they said goodbye at Riverrun. It was a fear they both recognized but could never name.

He opened his mouth as if to say something and then instantly closed it and looked away.

“Ser Jaime what are you-” Brienne was cut off again. Not by a look this time, but by Jaime grabbing her hand and pulling her down the corridor. Brienne was so taken aback it took her at least 12 steps to plant her feet and (reluctantly) yank her hand out of Jaime's.

“Ser Jaime, tell me what is wrong. If Lady Sansa or someone is in danger, I need my weapon. You have to tell me what's wrong if you want me to help you.”

“It's not- I don't -” Jaime let out a frustrated sigh, looking anywhere but her eyes. “There's nothing wrong. Not immediately anyway.”

“Then why are you- “

“Brienne, do you trust me?” He was looking in her eyes now, not even trying to hide his discomfort, whatever it was. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“If I asked you to . . . do one small thing for me, right now, would you do it? If you knew I would not have you break any of your vows or betray anyone you serve.”

“What is it, Jaime?”

His eye contact broke away from her again. Brienne couldn't remember a time when he had avoided her gaze so strongly, and it scared her a little. 

“Tell me what's wrong or I'll have no choice but to-”

“-I'll tell you when we get there. It's just down the hall.” His eyes met hers and he took a deep breath. He's terrified, she realized.

“Please, Brienne.”

Brienne found herself nodding. And before she had stopped or even had time to question her own response, Jaime had grabbed her hand again and walked her down the stairs and across the yard. 

It's wasn't a trap, of that she felt certain. Beyond that, she had no idea what was happening. When they rounded the corner and Jaime started banging in the door, Brienne finally realized they were at the Maester's door. 

“Are you ill? Is someone wounded- “

‘’'Sssh!” He hissed at Brienne. Jaime pounded harder on the door. 

“Hurry up, old man! We know you're in there.”

“Just a moment, please!” said the Maester's muffled voice from within. 

“Oh, now you can hear us,” Jaime said sarcastically. 

“Who is that?” said the Maester's voice. 

“It's Jaime Lannister, now open the door before I break it down.”

The door quickly opened to the sight of the Maester fumbling with his robes. The poor man must have been in the middle of undressing when Jaime had knocked. 

“Kingslayer, this is not an appropriate hour to-”

“It's Ser Jaime. Now unless you want me to wake the Queen's hand, my brother, you will leave now and gather everything you need to perform a marriage ceremony and be back here in two minutes. Any longer, and I'll wake the whole castle.”

The Master and now Brienne stared at him dumbfounded while his words hung in the air. Brienne felt like she should be reacting or saying something, but the blood flow to her brain seemed to be cut off by Jaime's squeezing grip on her hand that was only getting tighter. At least that would explain why her heart was pounding and her face was growing warm. 

“Ma - marriage, Ser Jaime?”

“NOW”

The Maester scuttled past them out of the room and suddenly Jaime pulled her inside and was turning to look at her with that same look of terror on his face, mixed with something else; guilt? Bashfulness? Desire?

Brienne's face must have reflected a similar jumble of emotions because suddenly Jaime’s face went pale and then bright red immediately after as he launched into a defensive tirade.

“I’'ll make no claim to your lands or title, I don't expect you to . . . lay with me, if you don't want to. You don't have to tell anyone this happened, I'll make sure the Maester keeps his stupid mouth shut. And I'll probably die tomorrow anyway so you won't have to worry about anyone finding out. Just. . . please.”

Brienne's breathing was short and shallow. Tears were threatening to make themselves visible, and she tried to make herself speak.

“Why?” 

Jaime stared at her, confusion and frustration matching her own. 

“Because the world is ending and before it does I have to do the one thing I would regret not doing before I’m killed by an army of the de-”

“-Why?!”

Jaime was suddenly so urgent it came across as fury. “Because I love you. Because I have bind myself to you before we both stare death in face. It’s the only way I can face the thought of losing you like a man. It's this or I lock you in the crypts until the Night King is defeated. And that would be breaking my new vows to Danaerys Targaryen. So if you ever cared about my honor, then save it by doing this and I’'ll let you get an annulment if we live through thi-” 

Brienne's lips were on his and she didn't know how they got there. It wasn't sweet or romantic the way they sang about kisses in songs. All she felt was breath and warmth and pressure but she didn't care. And they weren't stopping. Once Jaime had enough time to react he was taking over with his experienced mouth but Brienne didn't stop pressing her lips in as hard as she could, even if the effort was clumsy. But Jaime didn't seem to mind. 

Suddenly the door was opening and Brienne sprung away from Jaime. Jaime looked at her quizzically, disappointed that their intimate moment had ended so quickly. Then when he saw her attempt to regain some composure in front of the more and more bewildered Maester standing in the doorway, wedding cloth and script in hand, he understood. 

Suddenly all fear and caution were gone. He grinned at the Maester with all the cockiness of a man in love and said, “Well what are you standing there for? Start saying the bloody marriage ritual.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever, Woohoo!


End file.
